Lost: The Visitor
by Thor2000
Summary: Before Oceanic Airline Flight 108 crashed, there was another visitor to the island, a person with more secrets than Ben Linus and the Others put together.
1. Chapter 1

A sea gull glided and skimmed across the surface of the ocean before alighting on the beach with the catch in its beak. Upon landing, it attracted more of its kind gathering round it for a share of its prey. Avian shrieks and cries sounded and echoed up through the cove as the flock gathered and filled the beach even as other gulls caught sight of the herring in the tide pool and preyed upon them catching and filling up their gullets. The random crab stole a piece of lost meat from the fish pulled ashore and the blue filled with the volume and sounds of the birds crowding the sky. The tide pounded the beach hard and the sun on the horizon dipped a bit more. The sky was a shade of perfect blue as if the gods above had painted it from the hues of the rainbow. Closer to the horizon, the color turned more to faded gray as if those gods had run out of their colors. A slight breeze wafted and sailed up the beach, over the dunes and up to Juliet Burke on the cliffs above. She watched the birds stirring up from the breeze and whispered and prayed under her breath to alight with them into the sky and sail off into the heavens. Her breath gasped with sad depression, her face was placid and her emotions were lost on thoughts of her sister far on the other side of the world. She wanted to see her, but she was not allowed. She had been brought here for a job, and now she was a hostage. Regret and depression were her bedmates as she tried to forgive herself for taking this job. It had been a good opportunity, but now it was her biggest regret.

"Juliet?" A voice came from behind her, but she didn't look to see whom it was. She knew who it was. Her mind was on the wings of the birds that came and left the island without a thought.

"I didn't see you at dinner." Ben's voice continued. "I brought you a plate to eat up here. I assume you like Brussels sprouts."

"Thank you, Ben." Juliet's voice was faint but courteous. Ben waited for her to take the plate, but she still hadn't turned to face him. He waited a few seconds more for her to take the plate, but when she didn't, he impatiently looked round for a place to put it, refraining from showing his frustration, and then stopped to rest it by her side in a small patch lacking grass by her side. It was his daughter's fried chicken recipe. Some of their vegetables were grown on the island or brought from the mainland in the supplies on the sub. The gravy on the mashed potatoes now dripped off the paper plate molding to the wicker plate supporting it and the cornbread rested on its edge. Ben licked the gravy from his thumb after placing the plate of food by Juliet.

"You're starting to come up here a bit more often." Ben furrowed his brow against the breeze flapping his Khakis against his thin legs and slapping the back of his shirt against his back. "It's your sister's birthday, isn't it? You always get this malaise on her birthday."

"I'm not even asking anymore, Ben." Juliet responded speaking to the sun. "You know what I want."

"You can't leave the island." Ben's voice responded with kindness, but there was an unspoken irreverent ulterior motive behind his voice. "Your work here is not done."

"It will never be done, Ben." Juliet rose to her feet. "To give you results, I'd have to leave the island, but you won't let me leave the island so there never will be any answers. You've become the problem, Ben. I can't do the work you wanted if you're going to stand in the way."

"I promised Alex that you'd tell her how you liked her chicken. At least try it."

"Ben!" Juliet turned and stared intensely at Ben. His eyes were round like that of a young boy, but they could also be piercing like that of a man with secrets, something she was sure of. They were always sharp and nervous with the tension of a rodent and his face slight to the point he was nearly unassuming. Maybe that's how he liked it. Being this small, slight figure that had to hold secrets in order to control others. His hairline was a bit smaller than his head, his shoulders hanging low from sulking deeply in his big chairs, but despite his size he carried himself high and proud, trying to be bigger than he was.

"We have nothing more to talk about." Juliet started to turn back to the compound.

"You're going to break Alex's heart." Ben reached and delicately picked up the plate of food with his fingers reaching under the wicker plate. "She saved the last breast for you. The biggest one, too."

"How did you get such a decent daughter?" Juliet suspected the girl had been kidnapped from her true parents, but she knew better than to make enemies. She had turned to take the dinner plate from Ben, but she hesitated instead and turned to look behind Ben. He took a moment to realize something else had her attention, and turned to stare down off the cliffs as well. His nervous rodent-eyes darted from the sea gulls perched on the rocks and then out to the anomalous shape in the water. At first, he wasn't sure what the pale orange shade on the rolling blue and green tide was at first, and then he noticed movement; it was a life raft - a pale orange raft with a figure on it. There were no other boats on the horizon and yet this lone figure was aiming straight for the cove if but the tide washing him further down the beach to the other end of the island. He wasn't sure who it was, but whoever was, Ben realized that he was not keen of invaders to his island.

"Yep, I saw him too." Richard came running up to the cliff top with binoculars. "He appeared about an hour ago from the west. I think he might be someone who lost a ship in that storm from last week." He handed the binoculars to Ben who took them and immediately focused on the stranger rowing ashore. "One person, alone, in a single life raft." He reported.

"Any idea who he is?" Juliet asked, but Ben didn't answer. Through the binoculars, he saw a large figure of a man rowing into the island, a large muscular man with beard growth and long hair grinding his teeth together as he fought the surf to get ashore. He was larger than anyone else in the community, and if his size and brawn was any indication, he could be an unwelcome problem to the status quo on the island. Ben slightly frowned upset at their guest and his eyes shone with deceit and displeased spite.

"Don't confront him just yet." He told Richard. "Let's sit and observe him first. Maybe he'll just stock up on food and freshwater and then go."

"What if he discovers the commune?" Richard wondered out loud exchanging a glance with Juliet.

"That would be very misfortunate of him." Ben lowered the binoculars and turned to Juliet. "Wouldn't it?"


	2. Chapter 2

2

It was sometime prior to the present, and there was a storm at sea with a small buffeted ship craft being tossed and strewn from wave to wave. Torrents of water washed over the bow. The sails had been ripped off and the deck had been washed over by powerful waves of sold saltwater pounding the deck. The sky was pitch dark, the horizon non-existent. Within the ship, the sole party on board was knocked out of his bunk upon the last starboard pounding and hit the floor hard, landing in a few inches of water. He blinked his eyes, recalled where he was and drunkenly and half-asleep lifted himself to his feet. His deck shook again trying to rouse the sleep from him. Bracing himself on the bunks and counters, he stepped up and out on to the weaving deck.

"What do you want from me?!" He screamed to the gods of sea and storm. "Why can't you leave me alone?!" The whistling wind and cracking thunder answered him back as the storm threatened to sink him. The wayfarer turned his gaze to his mast and noted the absence of his main sails and his minor sails barely attached and flailing in the wind. What to do? What to do? He hadn't been on a craft like this before and he was not a trained sailor. He was a survivalist and a traveler, but he was not about to let himself become lost at sea. With the sound of groaning timbers and a whining hull, he realized that trying to save this monstrous craft would definitely kill him. He watched the spinning wheel of the boat rotating madly and wiped the taste of saltwater and stinging rain from his face. He jumped back into the hold grabbing a few things. He'd need his duffel; it had the things he needed to survive as before. He'd need the survival kit with the first aid and transponder. He'd need the life raft. A smaller vessel could just barely weather these waves without having so much area to toss around.

The craft hit another wave and bolted backward on its stern, knocking him backward on to his spine and knocking the breath from his body. The hold was filling up with water, almost a foot. The frying pan tossed from the wall had cracked his thick skull momentarily. Blinking his eyes against the pain, the sole passenger of this precarious craft fought against the pain as the boat righted itself and crashed down to level once more. With that impact, the keel shattered and the hull started giving way. The sea-farer clutched his duffel with the survival kit pushed into it, grabbed the uninflated life raft and staggered to the deck once more as the side of the boat dipping sideways under his feet. He stumbled to his side and slid hard to the railing feeling the ocean wafting closer than before. The lightning cracked once more and white foaming ocean permeated his senses before guessing where he was and throwing himself off the side of the lilting deck. The cracking mast unable to take the increased stress started cracking and bending. Part of the yard sail crashed to the deck right where the seafarer had been.

The raft had inflated, his duffel tossed into it first. The seafarer clung to it watching the scant likeness of his craft billowing in the pitch-black sea. He crawled and lifted himself into his tiny canvas raft and stretched himself out along the bottom. When he lifted his head again, there was no sign of his boat. Anywhere would be better right now.

Back to today…

Right now was an almost idyllic island setting somewhere north of Australia and south of Hawaii. The seafarer was now a castaway and he had been setting up camp on this island. He had pulled his raft into the trees to create a small shelter under it and he had mastered a small fire within minutes. The view of the ocean was endless, blocked only by the reef and pushed up geological formation to the north and then the rolling uneven cove to the south. He now had all the time in the world to relax before worrying about getting rescued. His ration of beef jerky was gone, but he could spear the birds that landed on the rocks and net fish with the section of sail pulled up out of the sand. Fish made a decent meal missing vegetables, but sea gull meat was tough and course, like over-cooked chicken with the dexterity of jerky. The random crab cooked on a pitch over the fire made a decent alternate dish, but he really needed to start searching and foraging inland for vegetables. Wild onions were possible, carrots sometimes grew wild on these islands and then there were the coconuts if he could only bust them open. If he were really lucky, there would be a tavern on the other side of the island with five different types of beer.

The castaway chewed a bit at the bone of the sea gull then tossed it into his fire, burning it with the lot of his trash. Out the corner of his eye, he detected a flash from the mountains and turned round. He looked trying to detect the source of his flash, wondering of there were people on the island or just the remnants of such. He turned back to the gear salvaged from his uncle's lost boat, picked up a club made from a strong branch and a rock cleaved to the point and made his decision to start hunting. As he turned, the sensation of being watched returned and he realized where it was coming from this time. He turned and directed his gaze not toward the heights above him, but to a mere point halfway up the horizon.

"He saw me!" Tom became spooked and dropped his binoculars. "He looked directly at me."

"Don't be ridiculous." Ben stood over him. "He's twelve miles away from us on the beach."

"I'm telling you, Ben." Tom stood and faced off Ben. "He didn't pan around me looking for something. We locked eyes."

Ben stared back at him with even frustration and annoyance.

"Jacob is waiting for me." He finally spoke up. "If you don't want to do this, get Richard or Goodwin, but don't be trying to scare me with something as stupid as 'he looked at me.' I won't buy that." He turned away dissatisfied for the path back to the commune. Unsure what to think, Tom watched Ben for all of a few seconds and hunched back down to his feet. Rising his binoculars back to his eyes, he aimed back to the castaway and spanned the beach for him once more. Their unwelcome guest had stopped trying to spear fish to move into the trees. He caught him moving around and then noticed him prodding his campfire and stirring a stew of fish and crabmeat from the fire. The distant bearded figure tasted his island mishmash of cooked sea creatures and chopped seaweed then lifted his gaze to Tom once more and lifted his bowl to him to acknowledge his existence.


	3. Chapter 3

3

The island was obviously uncivilized, as far as he could tell. There were no paths, evidence of decades from storms in the form of up-felled trees, tossed bushes and disturbed earth. It looked like a lot of the uncivilized parts of Hawaii, just without the ancient Hawaiian artifacts and relics. The castaway weaved his way around trees and wandered through under tall trees of spruce and palmetto reaching upward as he looked for evidence of game and fruit. A few berry bushes were the first thing he found, but he also tasted wild herbs and onions for the meals to help him keep his strength. He'd also need to find a way to keep his strength. He followed a dry gully looking for a source of fresh water but that petered out after a hundred feet.

The screech of a tropical bird swerving to miss his head distracted him to notice the heavy canopy where the trees had grown so close that much of the sky was nearly blocked out except for random rays of light poking through to the forest ground. That's when he saw it. It was movement. It wasn't a bird. First it looked as if it was haze obscuring the distance, but then it changed. A volume of dark smoke suspended in the air several yards ahead, it was churning and brewing as if it was alive. It poured and undulated with the semblance of life and seemingly moved toward him. The castaway wasn't scared of this phenomenon. He was curious, intrigued. It churned with the temper of a wild animal, poured around one of the large trees as it weaved in closer. It was reacting like a living storm cloud. What was it? What could it be? It started coming closer and closer and then within ten feet it reacted to his presence and abated, as if seemingly afraid. It wasn't interested in him. Could it know who he was? It seemingly caved into itself and weaved around the trees again as if it were a massive smoky caterpillar gradually becoming smaller and thinner. With a final roar, it pushed through the hollow of a broken tree and vanished into the Earth.

"There'll be enough of that." The castaway stood up on to his feet again and reared his handmade weapon over his shoulder. He rediscovered the remnants of the gully again and began following it again toward a clearing, passing in and out of a clearing, over patches of weeds and into a wild field of long grass. This should be a perfect place for finding game on this island. He started forward for the other side a mile forward and took his weapon into both his hands. He barely reached a hundred feet when he felt the sting of a mosquito pierce his left shoulder. He reached to swat it and found something else. It was a splinter of wood about two inches long. He pulled it out of his shoulder and looked at it.

"What the?"

He felt two more piercing the air and striking him in the abdomen and the other shoulder. So, there was life on this island after all, and they did not seem very friendly either. Reaffirming his handmade weapon in his hands, he began racing ahead to the source of the blow darts behind him and charged toward a figure huddled in the bushes. Ethan had to react fast to evade him. This guy was right on top of him. Goodwin shot more blow darts to the guy coming after them, wondering how much more was going to stop this guy. Ethan threw the first punch, but this guy was strong, even with enough tranquilizers in him to take down a cougar. His arm twisted around him, Ethan felt his feet lifted off the ground and flipped over on to his back.

"Get him!!" Tom led several more men to the attack. The castaway did not seem scared. None of them were as tall as him, except maybe Tom who was three inches shorter than meeting him eye to eye. Facing the attack head on, the castaway swung his weapon as more dart strafed his chest and back. That was enough to stop a grizzly bear, and yet, it didn't stop him. Goodwin took a fist to the face and was tossed out of the way with little effort. Tom tried a shoulder pincer, but the castaway expected that and elbowed him to the face and chest. With two more men charging with a net, Goodwin was lurched up off his feet and tossed into the net, taking down the men carrying it. Ethan began lifting himself off his feet. Their guest was big and strong and his stamina kept him from feeling the blow darts. Swinging his weapon, the castaway took out Goodwin and Tom and tossed off three more guys with them. He lunged on that weapon and took it from their guest. There'd be enough of that.

"Get him!!" He called out the order.

The castaway turned and started charging back through the trees. His vaulted over the ditch and started making distant with the others behind him.

"Check the expiration dates of those darts!" Ethan yelled at Goodwin.

"They're good!" Goodwin chased after their guest. The castaway felt more darts pelting his back and strafing the trees around him. How many were there? Richard shot out of the brush against him, and knocked him off his feet, but upon hitting the ground, his target surprised him and flipped once again tossing him fifteen feet. Landing on his feet, the castaway reared up against Tom trying to use his own weapon against him, but he then caught it and punched Tom to the face. More of Tom's kinsmen entered the fray to take down the castaway, but it was quickly becoming a fruitless attack. Their guest was strong. He was fast, and he was an exceptional wrestler. Two more guys were tossed skyward and crashed to the ground hard. Ethan tried his judo training, but that made little effort on a guy built like a tank. He was head-butted back down to his back. Things turned quiet on the forest floor. Twelve of the island's male inhabitants were laid out through the perimeter with only one man standing. Richard stared up breathing quickly as his heart pounded against his chest. Ethan pulled his sore arm to his chest and looked up the castaway looking down on him. He hadn't lost his breath. His handmade weapon on his shoulder and his thick hair and beard framing his chest, he stooped down to Ethan and pulled his head back.

"If Ben wants me," The castaway told him. "Tell him to come on his own." He dropped Ethan where he had landed and left the strewn men scattered in pain and exhaustion.


	4. Chapter 4

It was around a year prior to when a would-be castaway would land on the island. He was in the city of Olympia, Washington and the weather was terrible. Rain had plodded the city for about two weeks, and when it did break, the skies had stayed overcast. Small rivers of waters ran along the streets to vanish into gutters and one manhole flooded over from the debris blocking its pipes. Cars moved slowly under the darkened overcast skies as human temperament was warped by the weather. The odd character held his tongue and kept his good will hoping for sunshine. The would-be castaway turned into one of the palatial estate along Spring Street and used the distant lights of the mansion to direct his vehicle past the rows of rain-drenched statues and wilting oak trees on the property. His vehicle churned through a large puddle of water on the property, drove around the fountain and parked outside the front entrance. Upon shutting the automobile down, he pulled the collar of his coat up to over his head and made the slow but brisk walk to the main entrance. The rain was quickly forgotten as he pulled on the brass knockers and rapped them against the doors. A moment of waiting and the door cracked open a pitch then widened to reveal one of the housekeepers.

"Yes?" She looked upon the guest.

"Is he home?"

"For a while…" The young lady reached up to take the man's overcoat. He was a tall figure of a man of muscular build, the features of his mother and the broad stamina of his father, much like all of his brothers. His long hair stopped at the girth of his shoulders and his beard was neatly trimmed short to his chin and wide features. His brown eyes scanned the Old World furnishings and décor of the mansion. Freed of his overcoat, he strolled forward with his steps echoing against the parquet floor, passing baroque furnishings, imitation masterpieces of forgotten Italian masters and extravagantly polished mahogany features of the large estate. From the high ceiling of the foyer and down a short hall, the guest looked ahead to the large chair before the fireplace, a wayward hand sticking over the arm of it holding a snifter of elixir. He stood there looking at the spectacle before the person in the chair reacted. Feeling he was being watched, he set aside his copy of _The Odyssey_ by Homer, swirled his drink a minute and rose to his feet before pouring it down his gullet.

"You haven't been here in a while."

"I'm busy a lot, you know that." The guest turned to the older version of himself. "I was passing through and thought it was my duty to check up on you."

"You're lucky your step-mother isn't here." The studious father scratched his longer whiskers as he motioned to the liquor cabinet of his study for another drink. "She's upset that you've been fighting with your brother…"

"He gets on my nerves." The son motioned off an offer for a drink from his father. "I like pounding sense into him…"

"But it never sticks…" The family patriarch sipped his drink and motioned to the fire once more for warmth. "I'd rather you give up trying to make a humanitarian out of him. He is what he is, he's not going to change." He noticed his son looking intriguingly upon the ceramic figures on the mantel. "You could run interference between your sisters for me. They've been fighting again over some hot new singer… I can't keep track of their names…"

"You've got to be kidding…." Son shared a one-sided laugh with his father. "I'm not getting anywhere near them. They take sides and they play dirty. Every time I try to play mediator, they fight over whose side I'm taking. I prefer to stay out of those battles."

"You don't have to take sides…" Father resettled into his seat. "Just keep them from getting out of hand."

"I'm going to be away for that."

"Oh…" Father perched one eyebrow over the other. "Going on another trip?"

"I haven't done any sailing in a while." The son mused round the topics of books on the shelf then feigned interest in the possession on the table. "I thought I'd try a round-the-world excursion in a craft. I've never tried it before."

"Could be challenging for somewhat even like you." Father tilted his head back. "What about all those charities you keep? Can they spare you?"

"They're covered for a while."

"Like that friend of yours from Germany…" The father looked up to his son, mused a bit and reclaimed his book. "I hope you have a good trip and be careful, they never did find those five missing Avengers…."

"They never found the Cyclops either." Son mused on elaborate mysteries of the sea from the Caribbean and elsewhere. He'd heard them all, seen a few and even started a couple. He was used to sailing through the Mediterranean and up the Mississippi as well as through Hudson Bay and the North Sea. An around the world excursion would finally give him a challenge. He'd borrow the boat from his Uncle in the Bahamas, avoided the legendary Triangle and sailed down the coast of South America, hitting Rio de Janeiro on his eleventh day. It was like he was in a race. It was just a chance to keep busy and find things to challenge him, not that there was a lot to keep him busy. After a night in Rio with old friends, it was down to the tip as the weather turned cold and then warmed as he traveled up along the other side of the continent. With just a bearing, his radio, the stars and supplies as company, he then opened up to the South Pacific for a course heading due east. With thoughts of stops in Australia and India in his mind, he eventually drifted to sleep and woke to the storm that landed him on the island.

His beard had grown in the week on the island and the canoe he was carving from the felled tree was gradually taking shape. He'd carve on it during the day after breakfast, spend his lunchtime hunting and living on the land to build up his food supplies then spend his time carving again with the rock up until sleep claimed him. Once in a while, he broke the routine to go swimming or exploring, but he never fared further than where he landed. Three days after his battle with the hostiles, he was carving deep into the trunk of the tree to make his canoe, carefully sealing the outside of it with brewed tree sap when he again had the feeling of being watched, but this time, he felt it was from much closer up. He didn't turn or look behind him this time. He continued carving and briefly acknowledged the tip of the shadow from the person behind him.

"Hey, Ben…." The castaway called him over. "You hungry?" He alluded to his stew brewing in a pot from his boat on the campfire. "It's just boar meat and wild vegetables, but you do with what you get."

"Who are you?" Ben Linus looked at his invader and tried to will him to turn around to face him. When he did, he realized just how massive he was compared to Tom, a good foot over himself. Ben looked at him with mired curiosity and suspicion. His guest to the island rudely avoided him to stir his stew and taste it.

"I asked you a question." Ben confronted him again. "You took enough venom to fell ten men, you put the majority of my men in critical care and yet you don't show any trace of the scuffle. Who are you?"

The castaway just beamed proudly toward him without a word.

"I have the means to get you off the island." Ben offered. "All I want is your name."

"I can get off on my own." Ben stood before him and blocked his way.

"Your name."

The castaway lifted his canteen of water, sipped from it and mugged ear to ear as he bent down to Ben.

"You'd never be able to handle it." He told him.


	5. Chapter 5

5

Ben watched his step up the incline to the cliff overlooking the beach. Richard looked backward to him briefly to acknowledge him then turned his gaze back to down below. Things had changed. Their visiting castaway was rowing out to sea in his canoe pulling a raft of supplies. He seemed to be a strong person to manage it, but then, that was kind of obvious from their encounter. Richard still had a few ribs that bothered him.

"He's heading off." Richard extended the binoculars to Ben. Down in the cove, their brief guest was rowing away against the tide with one wave after another trying to wash him back in. "Want me to send Tom to rendezvous?"

"No…" Ben responded deep in thought. "Let him go."

"He could tell someone."

"I don't think so." Ben handed the binoculars back. "I don't think he cares about this place too much." He started to turn away then looked back to Richard. "Anything else?"

"Well," Richard thought a second then looked up. "I thought I saw someone with him for a minute. A woman."

"The French woman?"

"No," Richard revealed. "Another one. Blonde…"

"Where'd she come from?"

"I couldn't tell." Richard reported. "She was there one minute and gone the next."

"Forget about it…" Ben gestured him away. "He's no longer a concern. You can return to camp, but I'm off to speak to Jacob. I think we could be expecting more guests in the future."

Three hours earlier….

The life raft hadn't stood up. After a week it had deflated and to re-inflate it would have been a fruitless task… so much for using it to tow his supplies. His beard having grown and his tan much more obvious, the would-be castaway resisted his exile and once more set his destiny to the wind. With only the creatures of the sea and the lapping sounds of the tide as his sounds of companionship, the wayward traveler heard a new sound from the water he had not heard before yet during his say. Several yards from him, the reef was inexplicably pounded by the tide and from deep within the water, two masses formed and reached for the rock pulling themselves up from the depths. It was a figure of something not unused to being in water or traveling upon it. A female form cast itself from the foam once again; it's long blonde tresses cascading down its perfectly toned shape and figure. There was a light female giggle from this would-be sea divinity as she looked upon the castaway trying to ignore her. She smiled with a loving glint from her perfect blue eyes; her incredible presence gliding over with the regal grace of a swan.

"So this is where you've been hiding." She giggled effervescently.

"Don't you ever wear clothes?"

"Nudity is a very natural state." She told him with an intellectual matter-of-factly bearing.

"Last I heard from you…" The castaway looked her over. "You were fighting over…. What's his name? Jesse McCartney? The singer?" He commenced with piling on his canoe with supplies to return to civilization.

"He looks just like an old boyfriend."

"They all look like old boyfriends to you." The castaway told his sister. "Why don't you get married again? Spend time with your kids? I mean, your daughter followed me through Europe for almost a year."

"I wondered what became of her." His sister behaved scatterbrained for a second. It was mostly a state she pretended for giggles. He attitude was mostly for attention, but she also had a dark side she showed little. "Look, let me help you out of here. We can be in Paris in a few minutes."

"You don't get me at all." Brother waded through the water several times loading his boat to make the tide. "I like doing things for myself. I started this round the world trip, and I'm going to finish it. I've got friends I like to meet who don't say things about me behind my back."

"Who said what?" His naked image-obsessed sister stomped around the canoe wanting to know who said what. "Was it Helen? I never did like her. She is such a primadonna!"

"Go home." Brother complacently loaded his canoe.

"You have to tell me." Sister confronted brother. "I have always looked after you. You cried on my shoulder after your eighth wife died." She paused, watching her brother wading back and forth to load his canoe to make the tide.

"You've always been my favorite brother, Hercules." She confessed.

End


End file.
